


what did you say?

by derryhawkins



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, So yes, bev & rich get high, but like hella breifly, he also learns russian with stan's help, oh and stan lives, pennywise is mentioned, siri steals richie's thunder, so does eddie, this is set within canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:23:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryhawkins/pseuds/derryhawkins
Summary: there are five times richie says those three little words to the love of his life, but it takes six for eddie to actually hear him and say it back.





	what did you say?

**Author's Note:**

> the one bit in russian in here was translated by google so if it's wrong don't blame me (it means 'i love you')
> 
> also i posted this on my tumblr (derryhawkins) like idk a week ago and i decided to put this giant mess here too. enjoy! x

_ **i.** _

It wasn’t necessarily out of the blue for anyone in the Losers Club to say three special words to one another. They were a group of best friends who fought a demonic entity together – they almost _died_. After the oath, and once things settled back normal other than a few nightmares they had once in a while, the group of seven told each other ‘I love you’ more often than not, probably everyday if one were to count how often.

And of course Richie said it to Eddie – if anything, he said it to the smaller boy the most. It had started out as the Tozier boy joking around long before they fought a clown in the sewers, but, eventually as time went on, that changed. Richie wanted to say he didn’t know when it changed, because he knew the exact moment it did: with Bill, Beverly, Eddie and himself in that godforsaken house, the clown coming towards them, Eddie’s arm broken, everyone yelling but Richie shouting the loudest to get Eddie to look at him. Because – fuck. _Fuck_, Richie couldn’t lose Eds. _His Eds_. A boy he’s had a crush on for what seems like forever now. It had been in that terrifying moment that Richie realized with an equally terrifying realization that he loved Eddie _fucking_ Kaspbrak. And, with time, he started saying those words to him less after everything ended. Not drastically so – he didn’t want to make it obvious.

But those three little words, the meaning of them more like, had shifted into something more, and saying them not in that way felt _wrong_.

It was some day random Saturday afternoon. The seven of them were lounging at the quarry, soaking up the warm sun the best they could with autumn just around the corner. Mike was with Bill in the water, and Beverly was nearby on a rock smoking a cigarette, Ben not too far away as he tried to get a radio to work so they weren’t in complete silence. Stan attempted to help, but between getting frustrated that they couldn’t get it to work and Bev’s cig smoke, he soon ventured into the water with Bill and Mike. Richie and Eddie were sitting on a towel together, both in swim trunks and the heat of the sun was making their shoulders turn the slightest bit pink, but as they ate some snacks Stan and Bev brought along, neither particularly cared just yet.

“Hey!” Richie exclaimed suddenly and turned to Eddie. “Lets stuff our faces and say something and see if the other can guess what we’re saying!”

Eddie made a face of pure disgust. “Ew, why would- that- how did you come _up_ with that?! That sounds so fucking disgusting, Rich, oh my god, I don’t wanna see half eaten food in your germy mouth!”

“How can it be germy if your mom kisses it?”

“Richie, I swear!”

Richie busted out laughing. “C’mon, Eds!” He pleaded and stuck out his bottom lip, leaning towards the boy. “_Please_?”

“Get your face away from me!” Eddie grunted and put his hand on the side of Richie’s face, pushing him away, and Richie grinned some more, hoping the pink on his cheeks would come off as a sunburn or something. “Your stupid puppy eyes don’t work on me, fucker, not anymore!”

“You’re so lame.”

“_I’m_ lame?!”

They went back and forth as they ate a couple more snacks. Occasionally, Stan shouted at them to shut up, and Bev once in a while egged Richie on, earning a death glare from Eddie as Richie, Ben, and Beverly laughed. Finally, Ben got the radio to work and turned it up load enough for everyone to hear. It wasn’t long after that when Mike came over and forcibly dragged the two outs away from the snacks, claiming they were going to eat all of it they didn’t leave right then.

At some point, they all got in the water. For a while they played together – chicken, splash attacks, fake drowning, sharks – but eventually they all drifted to do their own thing. Mike and Bill were racing one another and Ben was timing it. Beverly was seeing how far she could swim below the surface and for how long she could do it, but Stan stayed close by her in case something went wrong, and Eddie was floating on his back, basking in the sun some more. Richie was just swimming around randomly, annoying his friends when he felt like it, and talking everyone’s ears off even if they weren’t listening, but in all honesty he was mostly just speaking to Eddie.

Richie stopped swimming and splashing around for a second, eyes landing on Eddie. It was a blurry sight – he left his glasses in the grass so he wouldn’t lose them in the water – but it was sharp enough for him to see who it was. He squinted to make the sight better, wiping water from his eyes, and a fond smile formed on his lips. He sunk down to hide it with the water in case any of the losers were watching. The sounds of Mike and Bill shouting as they raced faded out, same with Ben’s enthusiastic yells as he cheered both boys on. Stan’s laugh mixed with Beverly’s became background noise. The birds chirping simply became nonexistent. Eddie was just floating. He looked decently relaxed, a content smile on his features. Brunet hair floating in the water and stuck to his forehead, and from what Richie could see, the other boy’s eyes were closed.

A garble of words and bubbles came up as Richie spoke. It took Eddie out of his relaxed state and he looked at Richie with quizzical eyes. “What the fuck was that, Trashmouth?”

Squinty eyes turned wide. He pushed himself above water. “Um- I like blue! Like the sky, and water, and the bra your mom wears when we-.”

“Beep beep, Richie!” A chorus of six voices sounded, paired with Eddie splashing Richie.

The boy laughed. He backed away once Eddie splashed him, thinking instead of voicing the words he had said underwater that Eddie thankfully didn’t understand.

_I love you_.

_ **ii.** _

“If I knew you were going to be even more annoying, I would’ve fucking threw that joint in the trash – or better, not have come along at all! But _no_ you and Bev just _had_ to get high for the first time and bring me along in case any serious and bad shit happened- _will you stop laying on me_?! You’re not a pet, Richie!” Eddie went on, mouth moving a mile per second it seemed like, complaint after complaint escaping him.

He _had_ been studying for end of semester finals like his other two friends should be doing, but the redhead and the trashmouth wanted to try getting high for the first time at fifteen. Ben was sick with the flu, and was only just now on the road to recovery, so he had been out of the question when the two wanted a friend to supervise them in case it somehow all went to shit. Bill claimed he always studied better alone, and Mike, as much as he wanted to join the two on their high journey, declined because he needed to help his granddad with something. Stanley at first had agreed but backed out last minute when he realized he hadn’t done a single thing for an important essay due in three days. So, it had been down to Eddie, who wanted to say no it all, but figured it would get him away from his mom for some time.

The boy now wished he had walked away when he had the chance.

While Bev was munching away on some chips as she looked at a fashion magazine, occasionally speaking so deep and meaningful that even Eddie had to remind himself he was perfectly sober. Hopefully. Could you get high from second hand weed smoke? He wondered if it were possible, considering they were confined in Richie’s bedroom, the boy’s parents out of town for work. But hopefully that wasn’t the case.

Once the weed had started kicking in for Richie, it was if a switch had been flipped. He wasn’t talking as much as he usually was. He hadn’t completely shut up, but he had gotten quieter the more he got high. And _clingier_, too. At first he had cuddled Beverly and told her he loved her. She didn’t mind until she had to run off to pee, and that was when Richie moved onto Eddie, causing the boy’s endless complaints because he was unable to study, let alone move. He was on Richie’s bed, study notes, papers, and books all around him until Richie not so neatly pushed some away and crawled into Eddie’s lap. Usually, Eddie could care less. He loved cuddles. But he needed to pass this one class in particular and Richie’s high-clinginess was preventing that.

“I should’ve gone with Stan,” Eddie said. “Fucking Stan, at least he would be letting me study!”

“Calm your tits, Eddie, the science exam still isn’t until next Friday,” Bev told, waving a hand dismissively as she flipped a page of the magazine.

“You promised I’d be able to study!”

“_I_ did, yeah.”

“Meanwhile, I _didn’t_,” Richie said, sounding proud of himself. 

Eddie smacked him on the back of the head, muttering a few cuss words, and leaned back on his hands, Richie almost full on koala-ing him. Richie’s arms were wrapped around his torso and his head was nestled in the crook of Eddie’s neck, both legs on one side of Eddie in a bit of an awkward angle. Richie started talking again about one thing or another, but Eddie just tuned him out and let his head fall back, eyes staring at the ceiling. He gave up on complaining. It wasn’t getting anywhere and he didn’t want to annoy Bev too much with how unhappy he is about the situation.

“—ove spaghetti.”

Eddie blinked and looked at Richie. Well, Richie’s hair. “Spaghetti?” He repeated, confused.

Richie nodded. “Yeah, I love Spaghetti.”

The shorter boy snorted and half-heartedly rolled his eyes. “I know you like spaghetti, Richie, you brought it as your lunch for a solid week last month,” he said. “But I’m not making you any, if that’s what you’re getting at. It’s ten thirty at night.” Eddie added the last bit after glancing at the digital clock by Richie’s bed, and he heard Bev make a sound at the back of her throat, agreeing with Eddie.

“No. That’s not-,” he stopped himself and let out a sigh. Eddie tensed and hunched his shoulders, the breath of air causing chill bumps to form all over his body. “_My Spaghetti_, dumbass. My Eddie Spaghetti. Eds Spagheds. Spaghetti Man. I love you.”

Eddie blinked. He looked to the ceiling, then to Beverly who had sat up from her position in Richie’s bean bag. Her blue eyes were stuck on the two. Then finally, Eddie looked down at Richie again. He let out a little laugh. “Dude, you’re such a sap when high!” Eddie exclaimed in amusement. “First Bev, now me, who’s next? Stan? You gonna call him, or what?” He giggled some more at the thought of Richie calling Stan up so late just to say ‘I love you’.

Richie scoffed and shifted his weight. “I dunno. No,” he mumbled. “I really do love you, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but a smile tugged on his lips, ignoring the feeling of his face becoming just the slightest bit warm. He then laid back; his arms were getting tired from holding both his weight and Richie’s, and seeing as he wasn’t going to get any studying done, he let Richie full on cuddle him. “Whatever, Tozier,” he whispered.

They ended up falling asleep like that: cuddled into one another with Eddie’s study papers strewn around them, and Bev had fallen asleep in the bean bag. When Richie woke up the following morning, he was extremely yet pleasantly surprised to find Eddie fast asleep on his chest, their legs tangled together. Richie slipped his glasses on after grabbing them from their spot beside his head, and wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie, soaking in the blissful moment the best he could.

_ **iii.** _

Richie Tozier believed he truly fucked up. And it wasn’t the type of fuck up that he could easily fix with a joke or a Voice, or anything of the sort. In a high daze he had confessed to Eddie Kaspbrak that he loved him, and it wasn’t masked as a joke. He didn’t mean to - well, he did but he didn’t - and he has learned he has even less of a filter when high, and that’s saying something considering he barely has one when sober. After that blissful morning, the dawning realization of it all hit him full force later that afternoon when he was home alone trying to get the smell of weed out of his room. 

Fifteen year old Richie Tozier had called Beverly, insisted she come back over, and he spilled the beans the moment she stepped into his house with a puzzled look. It had taken over two hours for Bev to calm the boy down. She insisted Eddie most likely brushed it off as nothing more than Richie being Richie, and insisted that even she took it that way considering he had continuously told her, “I love you,” as they cuddled minutes before then. It calmed him down, somewhat. But that paranoia of Eddie knowing when Richie doesn’t want him to know just yet was still there. Even after exams were over and they were spending Christmas break together, it was still there.

So, he did what any logical fifteen year old would do at the time.

He just stopped saying those words. To Eddie. No one else. If anything, he probably amplified the mention of those three little words to his best friends, excluding the literal love of his life. Other than those times Richie would say, “I love you guys,” he never said them to Eddie specifically. And it stayed that way for a while. A year and a half, specifically.

During that time, Mike had actually questioned him, a bit taken back by the amount of times the Tozier boy had shouted those words at him within a week. Richie had easily explained that he just had a lot of love in his heart at the time. And he said the same thing when Stan confronted him. When Ben asked, Richie had simply asked in reply, “Can I not tell my best friends I love them?” Bill gave him odd looks once in a while but never said anything, chalking it up to be Richie just being his odd self. And Beverly never asked or confronted him because she knew why.

At some point, he made a game: whenever he felt the urge to just blurt, “I love you,” to his best friend, he would instead just tell one of the other Losers, or stated that he loved the tree they were passing or a candle he saw in a window of a store.

“That’s a nice ice cream parlor, I love it there.”

“We know, Richie, we’ve been there a thousand times.”

“I love that cake your mom made the other day, Stan!”

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

“Love your new hair cut, Bev!”

“I got it cut a month ago?”

“Still looks good! Ain’t I right, Ben? C’mon, agree with me!”

Those days turned into months, and those months turned into a year, and then a few more months went by and then it was a year and a half since that grand idea of his came to be, and Richie truly believed everything was going well. Those words hadn’t slipped from his mouth for a good bit of time, and he was honestly proud of himself.

Until a furious Eddie barged into his room one afternoon after school.

“_You lanky piece of fucking shit_!”

Richie shrieked when the door flung open, and fell off of his bed into a heap on the floor with a blanket, a text book, some papers and his walkman. He scrambled to stand up, only to trip a few times over the blanket tangled at his ankles, and the wire of his walkman got tangled around his neck and arms. He struggled to get out of both, tossing them to side the harshly once he freed himself. He straightened himself posture wise but his wild and messy hair stayed the same, as did his crooked glasses. A smile formed on his blushing face as he looked at Eddie.

“Eddie, my man! What a nice surprise-.”

“I fucking hate you,” Eddie seethed as he stepped farther into the room, marching over to Richie. The smile Richie wore fell instantly. “You are such a dickhead, did you know that?”

Richie held his hands up as Eddie poked his chest. “Whoa, hey, what’s- _huh_?” He was thoroughly confused, to say the least. And, a little bit scared. Eddie may be shorter than most guys their age, but he packed a good punch and was the feistiest out of all the Losers. Richie used to just laugh when Eddie got mad, claiming such a short boy could never be intimating. Now, years later, Eddie was taller and more well built though he still looked awkward being a teen and all, but he had more a bit more muscle than when he was six and a better choice of fowl words as well. Richie had no choice but to admit Eddie could be intimidating.

Eddie scoffed harshly. “Oh, come _on_, don’t act like you don’t know what the fuck I’m getting on about!” He yelled. 

“No, I don’t!” Richie yelled back. Both of his parents were home, but he didn’t care and it seemed as if Eddie didn’t either. The teen only hoped neither came up to check on all the yelling, and he was honestly surprised they didn’t with Eddie furiously stomping in.

“Jesus, Rich, I know you do! I also know you don’t wanna be my friend anymore! You hate me.”

“The fuck I do. Who fucking said that?”

“No one, but they don’t have to say anything!”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean!?”

“You don’t tell me you love me! You’re always saying it to the others in some way or another, and it wasn’t until I was studying with Ben and Stan when I realized. They took a break and talked about how you’re always saying ‘I love you’ to them, and then I’m sitting there feeling like completely fucking shit because you stopped saying that to me! You used to say it all the time when we were kids, and after…_that_ summer, you said it less, but I didn’t think anything of it, but now you’ve completely stopped! You could’ve just said you don’t wanna be friends anymore with me rather than just drifting away. We don’t even fucking hang out one on one anymore!”

_Oh, shit_. Richie’s fucked up. His eyes widened behind his glasses and he lowered his hands. “Eds, that- that’s not…” He trailed off, unable to find any words that would make the situation better. He felt his gut churn with guilt as he noticed that Eddie was crying. The tears started to fall mid-way through his rant and he hadn’t made an effort to calm down and stop them.

Eddie sniffled and wiped the tears on his cheeks away. “Look-.”

Richie bent down and wrapped his arms tightly around Eddie’s waist, and picked him up. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Rich, get off!”

“No!” Richie squeezed his eyes shut and held onto Eddie tighter, the shorter boy doing his best to get out of Richie’s grasp. “No, Eddie, okay, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m a dumbass, I wasn’t thinking straight _at all_, you have every right to hate me but I could never hate you. Okay?”

Eddie stopped fighting. “…What?”

Richie continued, “I just thought you got tired of it, y’know? Annoyed and all. You never really said it back when I did say it to you, so I thought you didn’t want to hear it, so I stopped. You’re my best friend and I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, I didn’t meaning to, I just wasn’t using my brain. I do love you, please believe me.”

Silence fell over them. No one spoke for the next few minutes, and at some point Richie set Eddie back down and let go, taking a step back to give him space. He picked at his nails as he waited for Eddie to say something, avoiding eye contact.

Eddie sucked in a breath of air and let it out. “You’re a dick.”

Richie nodded. “Yeah.”

“But I don’t hate you, either. I mean, I probably should, but…” He trailed off and shrugged.

Richie looked up with a wide smile. “Really?”

“Yes, _really_, I don’t think I could hate you even if I tried,” Eddie admitted, a smile of his own forming.

Richie went to say something, but a knock on the door frame kept him from doing so. The two teens looked over to see Maggie Tozier standing there. The woman looked the slightest bit concerned as she stared back at them. “Everything okay in here?”

Eddie nodded, cheeks a bit pink, as Richie answered, “Yeah, just some mixed signals, Mags.”

Maggie gave her son a look.

Richie sighed. “Sorry, sorry. _Mom_.” He smiled, and so did she.

“Your father’s making spaghetti, by the way,” she told him. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes. Eddie, you’re free to join – always will be.”

Eddie shook his head. “No, it’s fine-.”

“What? No, you’re staying,” Richie protested. “My Eddie Spaghetti eating spaghetti! It’s oddly poetic.”

Eddie made a face. “It’s weird.”

“So, you’re staying?”

“…Yes.”

“Yay!”

_ **iv.** _

“You’re learning…Russian?” Mike asked hesitantly.

Richie nodded, holding the Russian dictionary like it was his pride and joy. “Yep! Latin’s too hard, Spanish is too basic, French is too…uh, _French_, and I couldn’t think of anything else, so Russian it is, Mikey! Care to join me?”

“Uh… Not this time, no.”

Richie beamed. “Perfect.”

Mike snorted out a laugh as he started to walk away. “You’re a weird one, Rich.”

“You love me, though!”

“Debatable!”

They laughed, and Richie reopened the book he had closed, going back to studying how to say ‘I love you’ in Russian. Of course, he was going to teach himself a few other things, but that was the main goal. The reason he chose Russian and none of the others was because it’s the least likely one where Eddie might too easily piece everything together. French would be the logical route to go considering that’s an elective he’s currently taking at school, but so is Eddie, so that completely rules it out. Then the others are taking Spanish. So, if he wanted everything to not come to light so suddenly, he had to go with something no one else knew, either.

“Hey, I can help you with that if you want. It’s hard.”

Richie’s stomach dropped. But he forced a smile as he looked up. Stan stood there, the sun shining behind him as if he were an angel. Right then, Richie thought he was the devil. “Stan the Man! Why aren’t you with Mike and Ben over there?” Richie asked. He pointed over to the large rocks the other two boys were on as they looked at a bird book Stan had brought along with him. For a split second, Richie glanced over to where Beverly, Bill, and Eddie were as they sat under a tree for shade, and then quickly looked back up to Stan, forcing another smile.

“Offering my help for once in your lame life,” Stan answered. “Really, it’s not that easy to learn. The Russians have a completely different alphabet than us.”

“No, thanks, I got it.”

“Richard.”

“Stanley.”

“Stop being difficult.”

“Do you even know me? I’m difficult every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every year!”

An unpleased look came over Stan’s face and before Richie knew it, Stan was forcibly hoisting the dark haired boy to his feet. “Rich and I are going for sno-cones! Give us your money if you want one!” He kept a firm grip on Richie’s elbow and turned to face him as their friends fished for money. “We’re talking. No funny business, got it?”

Richie nodded quickly. His heart was hammering in his chest from nerves, and he could feel his hands start to sweat – and it wasn’t from the Spring heat. Stan must have noticed something, because his look softened and his grip loosened.

“It’s nothing bad, Rich,” he assured in a whisper as the other five started hurrying to them. “I promise.”

Richie could only nod again as he swallowed a lump in his throat. Then, they were grabbing money from their friends, and soon enough walking away from the barrens and to Richie’s new but beat down truck parked at the road. Stan took the money and stuffed it in one of his pockets, and then took the book from Richie as they got in the truck. His hands were shaking and he felt as if he was about to puke or pass out. Stan and him…they were close, almost as close as brothers, and if Richie had to make a list of his favorite people, the Jew would be directly under Eddie, maybe tied with Beverly.

Stan was someone Richie could have serious conversations with when he was tired of being the annoying and funny guy. For years, it’s been like this. Despite how often Stan says, “I hate you, Richie,” it wasn’t true in the slightest, and sure he got annoyed more often than not, but they were still as thick as thieves. Which was why Richie was a jittery mess. Stan didn’t have to say a word. Richie knew Stan knew; he didn’t know how, but he did, and that terrified the dark haired boy to no end. Because out of all the things that could make Stan hate Richie for real, it’s the fact he likes boys.

“Rich, pull over, you’re already going twenty over the speed limit, and I don’t want you to crash while we talk,” Stan said.

Richie nodded for a third time. “Y-Yeah. Um, g-good idea, Stan.”

Stan smirked. “Leave the stuttering to Bill.”

Richie cracked a smile but it went away as fast as it came, and then put the truck in park. He didn’t move, though. He stayed facing forward and his hands gripped the wheel tightly. “How long have you known?” Richie asked.

“That you love Eddie? I dunno… A while,” Stan admitted. “I don’t think the others know-.”

“Bev does.”

“Okay. I don’t think the _boys_ know,” Stan corrected. “I’m just observant. Plus, we’ve grown up together, Richie. If I had to pick a specific moment, it would be sometime in sophomore year. We all went to the arcade one weekend. Eddie got absolutely pissed at one of the employees and screamed at him. We almost got kicked out! But the entire time you looked…fond. Proud, even. We almost got kicked out of your favorite place in the world but you didn’t care because it was _Eddie_. That’s love. You would’ve reacted differently it had been anyone else.”

Richie half-smiled. He remembered that day. “So… You don’t hate me? Find me disgusting?” Slowly, he looked to his friend.

Stan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I find you disgusting because you’ve worn that shirt for the third day in a row. Not because you like boys.”

Relief flooded through Richie.

Then, “How long have you loved him, anyway?”

“Since we were twelve.”

“We’re seventeen.”

“Yup.”

“That’s _five years_!”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit.”

Richie sucked in a deep breath and then let it out. “Yeah…” He paused. “I thought it was nothing, honestly, at first. Then we almost died, and then the feeling never went away and…_here we are_. I want to tell him, but not now, but I can’t hold it in much longer either, so that’s where the Russian comes in.”

Stan nodded, motioned for Richie to start driving again, and thought for a moment. “Lucky for you that’s the one phrase I do know in Russian.”

A grin formed on Richie’s lips as he drove. “Perfect.”

He didn’t learn the phrase within one day like he wanted. Stan decided to make Richie learn the entire alphabet for the Russian language first, a few basic words, and then he would teach Richie the phrase. It took a few days to do the first part, and then another couple for the next. By the time the next weekend rolled around, Richie had the entire alphabet memorized and could say hello, bye, fuck, and I love you in Russian all thanks to Stan. Richie didn’t have the guts to say it that weekend, but waited until Monday when he had to drive Eddie to school that morning.

“Hey, Eds?” Richie spoke halfway through the drive.

Half-asleep Eddie hummed. “Yeah, Rich?”

“Я люблю тебя.”

Silence. Then, “I have no idea what the fuck you just said,” Eddie paused as he yawned. “But that’s pretty cool, Rich. Ya lebyuh te-blah blah to you too.”

“You totally just butchered that.”

“Fuck off.”

_ **v.** _

The Losers Club were officially high school graduates. Mike actually graduated earlier than everyone since he was homeschooled, but now that didn’t matter. The summer of freedom started out fine, perfect even. They had more fun than any of them could imagine, and none of them wanted it to end. Unfortunately, college was a thing for most everyone involved, and soon the Losers would be leaving Derry to tackle their adult lives. Soon – meaning one more night. The summer flew by faster than any of them believed. It was as if one moment they were taking a picture with their caps and gowns on, and the next they were about to leave their small town and best friends. 

It was why they were getting together one last time the night before they left. Drinks were involved. The sucky radio Ben always had to fix was playing some song. The stars were out. The only thing lighting up the barrens were a few flashlights they laid out around them. Richie sat on a rock by the shallow lake, back facing it as his eyes were glued to Eddie. A beer was held in one hand and the other had a half burnt cigarette. It had gone out a while ago, Richie too stuck in place to relight it.

Eddie had a cup of _something_ alcoholic in his hand, his fourth one of the night, and he was shout-singing along to the song that was playing with Ben and Mike, dancing too. He was happy and carefree and glowing under the lights of the flashlights and stars, and with each passing moment Richie could feel his heart just swell with love as he watched the other boy. Richie took another swig of the beer and smiled as Eddie and Ben clung to one another as they dramatically sang the next lyrics, putting Mike into a laughing fit.

“You gotta tell him,” Bev said as she walked up. She sat beside Richie and took the cigarette, relighting it. After, she offered it back but Richie declined. “Rich, sweetie… You _have_ to.”

Richie motioned towards Eddie, still smiling albeit it was a sad one now, and turned to face Beverly. “Look at him,” he said, and she did. “He’s having the best time of his life over there! I can’t ruin that.”

Bev gave him a sad look. “You won’t.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s been fine the way it is-.”

“He kissed a girl as a dare four months ago, and you sobbed in your pillow for the rest of the weekend.”

“I was being overly dramatic. You know how I am! Besides, I still got his mom, don’t I?” It was a lame attempt at a joke. A failed one, too. Because Bev neither laughed or reprimanded him. He sighed and took the last gulp of beer. 

“You have to tell him,” she repeated. “We’re going to be busy because of college, and we’re not exactly going to the same one.”

Richie pursed his lips. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. “We made plans to meet up every weekend if we can. Our universities aren’t too far away.”

“Rich-.”

“Bev,” he interrupted her, pleading, “Just stop. Okay? I’ll tell him when I want to.”

She looked at her best friend, studied him. Then, she nodded solemnly. “Alright,” she whispered.

The next few minutes were spent with the two sitting on the rock as Beverly finished the cigarette. Neither spoke after that and it wasn’t until Bill ran up to drag them tot he others when they left their spot. Richie grabbed another beer after throwing the empty bottle into the trash bag Stan brought for, well, _trash_. Richie made a few jokes of putting himself in it considering they call him Trashmouth, and Mike at picked him up and acted as if he was going to do just that.

“Put that fucker where he belongs!” Eddie shouted, grinning.

“At least put him in recycling,” Ben said.

“He doesn’t deserve to be recycled,” Stan teased.

All the while, Richie was laughing in Mike’s arms, a few drops of his beer getting on the both of them. Mike eventually set him down and put an arm around Richie’s shoulders. “Nah, I’d never throw out the Trashmouth,” Mike said. He smirked and backed away, feigning a look of disgust as he waved a hand around. “Only because you stink too much!”

Richie gave a sarcastic laugh. “I’m not the one who works on a farm!”

“Oh, he’s g-g-got you there,” Bill laughed.

“Which makes it worse,” Bev joined in.

“Trash the Trashmouth, okay, ha ha, very funny!”

“You started it, Rich,” Eddie reminded him with a slight slur as he walked up to him.

Richie rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, I know.” Subconsciously he put an arm on Eddie’s shoulders, and then he looked down at him, a bit surprised to already find Eddie’s eyes on him. Richie’s eyes lowered to the shirt Eddie was wearing and lifted a brow, smiling knowingly, trying not to react to the arm resting against his back and the hand messing with his own shirt. “Love your shirt, Eds.”

“Of course you do. You gave it to me a few years ago, I’m actually surprised in genuinely fits me well.”

“A little oversized but you’re still _cute, cute, cute_!” Richie snaked his arm further around Eddie’s shoulders and neck, and pinched the other’s cheek. “But, may I remind you, I never gave it to you. You stole it.”

“…No, I don’t think I did.”

“You did.”

“Nope.”

“I literally watched you take it from my closet.”

“It was a dream.”

Richie scoffed. He gave in, “Alright, fine.”

Eddie grinned, proud of himself.

The next few moments they just stood there. Beverly’s words flooded Richie’s mind as he looked down at Eddie. For a solid minute, he had an inward battle with himself about what to do, but as Eddie laughed at something Stan said to Ben, the winner of that inner battle was clear. 

Richie tightened his grip around Eddie’s shoulders for a split second to get his attention. “Hey. Eds, can I tell you something?” _Now or never_, Tozier, he told himself, _you can do it. You gotta. This has been six years in the making so just fucking do it._

“You know you can, Rich. C’mon, tell me.”

_Now or never, you piece of shit._

_“We’re going to be busy because of college.”_

_Я люблю тебя._

_Muffled confession under water._

_“I don’t think I could hate you even if I tried.”_

“Eddie, I-.”

“Guys!” Mike shouted in excitement and turned up the volume. “Listen!” A familiar tune met Richie’s ears. It was the song all of them loved to jam out to, one they vowed to never not dance along to no matter where they were. Eddie was quick to leave Richie’s side to join the others, not hearing the last part of what Richie had to say.

“-love you.” _Shit._

_**\+ i.**_

Richie could cry- no. _No_, he _was_ crying. Tears steadily streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and mud and blood from the final fight with It. They should be celebrating. They should be happy. They should be basking in the glory of finally having that piece of shit defeated after 27 years. But that wasn’t the case. Eddie got stabbed and it didn’t look good at all. Richie rid himself of his jacket and pressed it against the wound. Eddie’s eyes were shutting, head lulling.

“No, no nonono,” Richie muttered through some tears. He patted Eddie’s face to stir him awake enough to open his eyes; a sound left Eddie’s throat and Richie didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing as Eddie shut his eyes again. “Not you. C’mon, _please not you_, I can’t lose you. You’re too important to me. _Eds_. Eds! Eddie, hey, stay awake for me, alright? I can’t lose you- I _can’t- fuck_, I love you so much, please, I’m so in love with you. Don’t die on me, _please_.”

“Richie,” Beverly spoke from her spot, equally as dirty as the rest of them. “Sweetie, I don’t think…” She trailed off, unable to finish her own sentence.

Ben moved forward quickly. He bent down and watched Eddie closely for a second. “He’s still breathing,” he whispered. Frantically, he started pulling off his belt.

“Guys, the house is falling apart!” Mike shouted at them.

“He’s still breathing!” Ben shouted back. 

He gently pushed Richie away to put the belt around Eddie, securing Richie’s jacket tightly over the wound. Mike was then walking over, and so was Bill. The sounds of the house falling down filled their ears as they picked Eddie up. Richie had his shoulders, Ben stayed by his abdomen to make sure the belt stayed, and Mike had his feet. Bill made sure they didn’t need any help before looking to their redheaded woman.

“Bev, go ahead and go! Make sure Stan knows we’re coming back and tell him about Eddie!” Bill yelled.

Beverly nodded and ran off, and Bill led the rest of them through everything. It was hard and more than a few times did they think they were about to be crushed by everything, but they made it out just in time. They didn’t stop there. They carried Eddie to Richie’s very new truck and set him in the bed of it, Stan in the driver’s seat, the engine already running. Beverly was in the passenger’s seat, and Bill and Ben got in the back while Richie and Mike stayed with Eddie. To everyone’s surprise, Stan sped down the Derry roads as fast as he could but also as safely as he could. 

“Rich…” Eddie croaked out.

Richie bent down further and smiled through the tears, hand clutching Eddie’s. He did his best to ignore much he looked like death. “We’re getting you to a hospital,” he said. “Hang on, okay?”

“I gotta…’ell y’somethin’.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “You keep those fucking words in you mouth, Eddie. Tell me when you aren’t bleeding from a stab wound.”

“He’s losing a lot of blood, man,” Mike whispered, as if trying to say something.

Richie looked at Mike, glaring, and blinked back more tears that wanted to fall.

“Rich, I…” Eddie trailed off. Then, the grip on Richie’s hand weakened and Eddie’s eyes shut completely as his head lulled to the side for a second time.

“No. Shit. Fuck, _Stan_!”

“His pulse is weak-.”

“Mike, I love you, but shut the fuck!”

Mike, instead of arguing, nodded and hit the back window of the truck. Bill opened it. “Hurry up!”

“I’m already speeding!” Stan shouted from the inside.

“Speed _faster_!” Bev yelled. He did.

“Two more miles!” Ben told them.

“I just called, there’ll be someone waiting for us,” Bill said.

One minute later, Richie’s truck was zooming into the parking lot of the hospital and coming to a surprisingly steady halt by the entrance to the emergency room. Doctors and paramedics came rushing out instantly, taking Eddie away, the losers following them inside as far as they would let them. Richie stood at the double doors and stared through the window. He sucked in a deep breath. Then, he found the nearest trashcan and puked.

It seemed as if the next couple of hours went by slowly on purpose, taunting Richie and the others. During those hours, Richie scrubbed Eddie’s blood off of hands while sobbing in the men’s bathroom, and when he came back out to the waiting room he got tackled in a group hug which just caused him to cry some more. Stan shed a few tears and Ben wiped away a few that slipped out. Mike and Bill were refusing to cry just yet, while Beverly started to but stopped, telling herself and the boys that Eddie was still alive. The amount of tears increased when the doctor came in and told them that Eddie miraculously made it, but he wasn’t awake just yet.

They visited Eddie as much as they could. Someone was always in the room at all times, waiting for their favorite fireball to wake up. Richie stayed there the most. He only left to clean up and change clothes. He didn’t want Eddie out of his sight too much, not after what happened.

It was the morning of the second day when Eddie finally woke up.

“Wake up, fuckface,” Eddie said at noticing Richie, the man sleeping in a chair beside the bed, head using Eddie’s legs as a pillow.

Richie sat up almost instantly. His eyes were wide with joy at first until he realized he had no glasses on, and suddenly he was squinting to see Eddie better. He fumbled around for his glasses and slipped them on once he found them, and his smile grew ten times at seeing the other man clearly. “Eddie!” He exclaimed happily, and koala-ed him the best he could without causing any more harm or pain. He was laughing, then he was crying. “Shit, I thought I’d lost you.”

Eddie placed a comforting hand in Richie’s hair, and he closed his eyes as he rested his cheek on Richie’s head. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m okay now, though… Hey, Rich?”

“Hm?”

“Я люблю тебя.”

Richie froze. He slowly moved away and sat back in the chair, staring at Eddie with pure shock. “What did you say?”

Eddie smiled. “I think you know.”

Richie blinked. He was stunned. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped back. “I thought you didn’t know what that meant?”

“I didn’t. But, uh, that’s the first thing I remembered when I got back here. I asked Siri what it meant.”

With lowered brows, Richie’s jaw dropped. “Siri told you that I loved you before I fucking got to properly? What the fuck!?”

Eddie busted out laughing, holding his side with the stitches. “Oh- fuck, this priceless!”

“I’m killing Siri.”

“Aw, no, babe! Don’t, she helps me with driving,” Eddie said, nearly pouting.

Richie snorted, almost completely missing the term of endearment. “I’ve been in love you since we were fucking twelve, and a piece of shit technology tells you before I get the chance. Unbelievable!”

“I mean… You could tell me now.”

“Tell you what- oh. _Oh._” He scooted closer to the bed and leaned forward. For a moment, he thought about making a joke about his mother, but decided against it, even though it would have been hilarious. He smiled, taking one of Eddie’s hands. Nerves coursed through him, but he fought against them. He wasn’t a terrified teenager anymore. “Eddie – my Eds Spagheds – I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

Eddie beamed at him. “I love you, too.”

If Richie’s grin could grow anymore, it would. And maybe it did.

Because in front of him was the love of his life alive, saying he loved him back.

Richie then leaned all the way forward and kissed Eddie, and Eddie kissed back. Bill barged in then, ready to announce that breakfast had arrived, but stopped himself at seeing Richie and Eddie. He froze, stared, and then backed up, smiling slowly as he shut the door. He turned to the other losers, who looked confused. 

“Well,” Bill said. “It took a little over two fucking decades but they’re finally together.”


End file.
